


We'll Go Where Nobody Knows

by champagne_enema



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Heathers, Alternate Universe - High School, Dark Shiro (Voltron), Drabble, M/M, Pining Lance (Voltron), Smut, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 10:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13973457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagne_enema/pseuds/champagne_enema
Summary: It's in the 7-Eleven when Lance realizes this is more than just a crush.Keith is waiting for him, he knows. How could he forget, with the boy slamming on the horn every five minutes. But Lance can't find it in him to care.He's too busy lost in Shiro's gunmetal eyes and the bitter smile as he says "The extreme always seems to make an impression."





	We'll Go Where Nobody Knows

**Author's Note:**

> going through a rough time so I drabbled my feels away :)))))))))  
> something about Lance being Ronnie and Shiro being JD gets my gears goin if ya know what I mean ;))  
> I might write more of this au idk ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> (title is from chocolate by the 1975 btw)

The first time Lance meets him, he's still reeling from a verbal smackdown from demon king Keith Kogane.  
  
He feels struck, disbelieving, but above all else he feels... _Angry_ . And disgusted. A little used, too. But mostly angry.  
  
Like, who does Keith think he is, huh? Who gave Keith the right to tell him what to do? To-- to-- boss him around and disrespect Shay like that. He hates this game that he's been forced to play, hates pretending to be someone he's not. It makes him sick to think of Shay's reaction when she reads the note that Keith forced Lance to write, thinking that it's from Lotor when it's not. He hates the guilt curdling in his gut, guilt for not only Shay, but also for the dozens of people Keith and his bitch squad put down on a day to day basis.  
  
Mostly, he hates that Keith has forced him to do the same. Coerced him into becoming a _Paladin,_ acting like it's a gift. Acting like Lance should be _grateful_ . It's shameful.  
  
"You shouldn't have bowed down to the swatch dogs and the diet coke heads. They're gonna crush that girl." disrupts Lance's self loathing. He jolts and looks at the speaker, met with the one and only new kid, Shirogane. And, damn, is he fine as hell. Like some kind of wet dream, with his shaved head and fluffy white tuft, with his sharp as hell jawline, with his broad (and deliciously muscled) shoulders, with his dangerously sexy scar. He's sex on legs, honestly, and Lance feels a bit weak kneed.  
  
"Yeah, well," he shrugs. "You've clearly got a soul, you just need to work hard keeping it clean. 'We are all born marked for evil.'” Lance raises a brow. “Baudelaire? Really?” Shirogane grins cheekily and moves to walk away. “Think about it,” he calls back, and Lance blinks as he leaves. Maybe stares at his tight ass a little bit, but who could blame him?

* * *

 

The next time Lance sees Shiro is when he's beating Lotor and Sendak to bloody pulps with a goddamn _book_.

 _It shouldn't be hot_ , he thinks. Lance isn't a violent person, but something about Shiro slamming a book into Sendak's sneering face makes Lance's boy-parts tingle and his heart flutter. He thinks, _fight for me_ . He wants Shiro to fight for him, he wants to fight for Shiro. He knows CPR so it's not a big deal, right? The Paladins are bitches and Sendak and Lotor are bullies. Lance and Shiro are kindred souls, caught in the clusterfuck that is highschool. Alone, they're useless. But together they can make a difference.  
  
_Fight for me._

* * *

It's in the 7-Eleven when Lance realizes this is more than just a crush.  
  
Keith is waiting for him, he knows. How could he forget, with the boy slamming on the horn every five minutes. But Lance can't find it in him to care.  
  
He's too busy lost in Shiro's gunmetal eyes, the bitter smile as he says "The extreme always seems to make an impression."  
  
Shiro tells him about his dad, the guy from those commercials about blowing shit up. He gestures towards his arm, tells him how he lost it same day as he lost his mother. His smile is sticky sweet as he holds out the slushie, tinging his mouth that vibrant blue, addictive. "It's hard to think about all of that shit when you've got a brain freeze." and he's got a point.  
  
He tells Lance about the depression, about the numbness in his skull, _fight pain with more pain_ . He looks so agonizing, so frozen like his beloved slushies. It hurts to watch, hurts like an unrelenting brain freeze, except this hurts his heart. When he says "you'd better start building some walls, Lance McClain," he can't fucking think past the throbbing, freezing, drip drip of the slushie machine. Can't think past the ache at the damaged boy before him, the mourning of a childhood lost at the hands of his asshole father.  
  
So he takes a sip of the sticky sweet slushie, slurps it up because he craves the release Shiro promises. He wants the ache gone, wants to get lost in that sweet frozen rush. He drinks and then he leans in and presses his lips to Shiro's, wanting to share the sweetness. It's tentative, until it's not, until all he can feel is Shiro's cool lips against his own, the sticky sweet taste of blue raspberry coating his tongue. He thinks, _yeah, this is it. I get the addiction. I get the thrill._ But then again, he's not addicted to the slushies like Shiro is. He's addicted to everything that _is_ Shiro.  
  
He hears Keith shrieking from the car for corn nuts. Shiro pulls his lips away but keeps their foreheads pressed together, grinning against his lips. "I don't like your friends," he whispers. "I don't like them either," Lance whispers back.

* * *

  
He's craving Shiro at his darkest hour.  
  
When he's walking down the street, stumbling in the dumb heels Keith had leant him, he's thinking (or maybe saying, he can't tell) _"I'm so fucking dead,"_ over and over like a mantra. He feels like a dead boy walking, like nothing matters, because he told off the demon bitch Keith Kogane, puked on his pumps and told him to lick it up, Keith, _lick it up._  
  
He feels relieved, yeah. But he mostly feels invincible. Like he'd conquered the bad guy, told him to fuck off, and now wants to bask in his glory. Share his triumph.  
  
Shiro is all he can think about, even though he's a dead boy walking.  
  
he climbs onto the roof, opens his window, and tumbles inside the dark room. He's still wasted, praying that he's stumbled into the right room.  
  
He think, _shit, I hope this is Shiro's room_ , when he hears Shiro's sleepy voice ask "Lance? What are you doing in my room?"  
  
Yes! victory.  
  
He pushes himself off the floor and flops on the bed, neatly made with black sheets all tucked in with military precision. Shiro is sitting up, blearily staring at him like he thinks he's dreaming. And maybe this is a dream. Maybe Lance will wake up any minute, and the last hour or so has been a figment of his imagination.  
  
Lance straddles him, hands on his firm chest. Nope, Lance couldn't come up with how firm it is in a dream. This is _very_ real.  
  
"I want you," he hiccups, clenching his fingers in the material of his black shirt. "To fuck me."

He blanches, eyes wide and disbelieving as he stares at Lance. “W-what?” Lance leans in and kisses him firmly before pulling back and smiling crookedly. “Fuck me, Shiro. Make this town disappear.”

Shiro pauses. He stares. Then he’s kissing him, frantically. They’re kissing again, but it feels more like connecting. He feels like their souls are fusing, like they’re opening themselves up and intertwining their metaphorical organs.

Shiro pushes him down on the bed, holding his arms above his head and leering from above. He starts kissing down Lance’s neck, sucking into the fragile skin and nipping. Lance gasps at each bite, arching and writhing.

They’re ripping off anything that stands in the way. Shiro rips open the white button up, buttons exploding around them in a shower. He lifts up the tiny blue skirt, palming Lance’s erection, grinning wolfishly at Lance’s broken moan.

“Touch me, _touch me_ ,” Lance whispers. He grabs Shiro’s hand, the flesh one, and drags it to his head. “Pull my hair,”

He does, and Lance pants at the sharp action. He feels like a melted slushie as Shiro mouths at his chest, as he pulls aside his panties and fondles his cock. As Shiro lubes up his fingers,slipping one and then two into Lance’s hole. “Greedy little thing” he murmurs, and it’s _hot hot hot_ . Lance is melting, blue raspberry against the sheets, for Shiro to slurp up. “I’m dead,” he whispers over and over, dead boy walking, but the thing is is that this dead boy walking has Shiro, and Keith _doesn’t_. Keith has the fame, has the attention and the boys and the glam. But Lance has this. Has the whispers of touch, has the harsh panting to break the silence, has Shiro’s hand and then his cock up his ass. It burns, but in the best of ways. Like those damn slushies, something to focus on, blanking his mind.

“Fuh― _fuck_ , Shiro. Yeah, yeah, _yeahhh_.”

The bed creaks, Lance flips them because he likes Shiro beneath him. He likes feeling on top of the world. He’s drunk on more than the shitty beer from Lotor’s party, on more than the ice cold slushie. He’s drunk on power, on victory, on _Shiro_.

“Lance, oh my _god_ ,” he moans as Lance bounces, sloppy and wild. Up down up down _up down_ until he cant feel his legs anymore, exhaustion starting to set in but he’s _so close_ . So goddamn close. “C’mon, c’mon, _c’mon_ ,”

He comes first, head thrown back and back arched, moaning like a seasoned whore. Or, at least he thinks he is. Everything whites out, nothing really making sense, everything but Shiro disappearing. Shiro keeps bucking, hands tight and no doubt leaving bruises on his hips, chasing his own release.

“Oh, mother of fuck, yes, yes―” and he trails off into a low groan, hips stilling to a halt. Lance can feel his release inside him (for a second he worries about condoms, but that’s future Lance’s problem), relishes in the fact, and grins down at Shiro’s blissed out expression.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers, eyes drooping from exhaustion. Shiro flushes, red like a cherry slushie. He looks speechless, and so _so_ pretty beneath him. Lance may be a dead boy walking, but he’s never felt more happy in his damn _life_.

He would puke on Keith a thousand more times if it meant he got to fuck Shiro's brains out like this again.

**Author's Note:**

> come be my friend on [tumblr](https://smelly-milk.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/smellymilky?lang=en)


End file.
